Vanna's Choice
by MD Owen
Summary: It's Best Friends week on Wheel of Fortune. What better best friends to compete on the show than Michael and Dwight?
1. Toss Up 1

_I attempted to write this story as an actual episode of The Office US (well, who here doesn't?). To place this in the timeline, let's squeeze it in as a potential episode for the second season. While I've seen The Office many times, I do not pretend to know everything. Also I've never been a contestant on Wheel of Fortune either and I took some liberties with the show itinerary; I merely researched some behind the scenes stuff and then rolled with it. Enjoy!_

"By some sheer luck and a little networking through Meredith – of all people – Wheel of Fortune auditioned two people from our very own little Scranton, PA town AND—"

Pam squealed, "From Dunder Mifflin!" She bounced in her chair. "Sorry, Jim, but you weren't announcing it fast enough."

"Oh, Beesley," he chimed at her, grinning like he won the lottery. "Yes, two contestants from Dunder Mifflin are going to be on Wheel of Fortune. I wonder how Dwight will act around Vanna?"

Pam's cheeks radiated. "That is a good question, _James_. Also follow up question," she held her finger in the air. "How will Pat and Vanna react to Michael AND Dwight? In the same room?"

Jim checked his trusted wristwatch. "They have now taped the episode and the two should be back in their hotel either celebrating from winning big or complaining they didn't get enough screen time."

"Or that it was all rigged," Pam snickered. She pretended to hold a microphone at Jim. "What do you expect to see when the show airs?"

He took the pretend microphone and announced, "I bet my dignity and pride that either Michael or Dwight will profess their love to Vanna."

"James, how will you strip yourself of this dignity and pride if it doesn't happen?"

"I will eat an entire buttercream cake with one of my mom's dresses on."

She snorted and reached closer to the pretend microphone still in Jim's grip. "What if they edit it out?"

"Oh I have connections," he teased and felt her warmth so close to his face. "You can take that to the bank, Beesley."

Their giggles and laughter from the conference room could be heard from the annex.

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Toss-Up Puzzle #1**

As Marcus, the contestant coordinator, explained the play-by-play of announcing a particular letter, spinning the luminescent Wheel, and clapping for the other contestants, Michael Scott was visiting an imaginary island with Vanna White in his head. He barely heard anything Marcus said.

Dwight leaned over after Marcus left and whispered to Michael, "Are you thinking of a naked Vanna turning the letters on the board in your bathroom too?"

Whipped right out of his fantasy Michael hissed, "You can't have Vanna in your serial killer bathroom. She's on an island with me in mine. Not. Sharing."

His pride deflated, Dwight was tired of choosing Pat Sajack in his fantasies. When he and Mose were kids Mose always chose Vanna first and pretended to stand in front of their analog Tv, pushing the letters to appear. Dwight never spun the wheel either.

Michael ran his fingers through a lagoon of gel in his black hair. "By the time we finish the show, Vanna and I will be on a cruise sipping mojitos on the way to Hawaii."

"Can I go?" Dwight's mood elevated from defeat to determination. "I promise to give you your mojito first and keep any and all guys off your Wheel Lady."

"Wheel Lady?" Michael's eyebrows furrowed but he realized something cute about the nickname. "I like it. You know what? I'll even let you hold her tennis racket and retrieve my balls."

The studio lights bounced off Dwight's glasses as he jumped with glee. A young female intern peered curiously at Dwight's excitement. "I will be delighted to hold your balls, Michael. You won't regret having me there."

The two beamed at each other.

Marcus appeared in front of a dark heavy curtain partitioning the studio and the audience seating. "It's showtime, super stars!"

"Did you hear that, Michael?" Dwight, ecstatic as a kid on Christmas morning, tugged on his manager's sleeve. "We're going to be famous."

Michael didn't answer, for he had visions of dancing Vannas and Ferraris in his head. Marcus had to remind Michael to watch his steps on the platform to the Big Wheel. Dwight caught a flailing Michael on the last tricky step, but Michael popped away his friend's hand, shuddering in quick embarrassment but mostly aggravated that another daydream was interrupted.

"Mr. Scott, please stand on this taller platform; Mr Schrute will take the smaller one. We like to have everyone level on camera," Marcus instructed, pointing between the two.

The arrangement ignited more of Michael's anger. "I feel, Coordinator Marcus, that my managerial position at Dunder Mifflin dictates I should..." he waved his hands around to mentally catch the right word, "...maintain my managerial status even on television so that people will know I am the manager and he-" presenting Dwight into the conversation, "- is the assistant to the managerial status."

Dwight mumbled with a tight smile. "Assistant managerial status.."

None of Michael's declaration made sense to Marcus, and he patted the taller platform, beckoning Michael on it. "Everybody is equal here until you win, Mr. Scott. So forget the real world and submit to the Wheel. It knows all!" he whispered with the delight of a deranged employee who sold his soul one fateful night to a Wheel gremlin. Dwight blinked a couple of times but remembered what the show meant to him as a child. He shall spin the wheel and make Michael and the world proud!

To Michael, it might as well be doomsday or the end of a big sale he missed at Macy's. He thumped on the taller platform and stood head-to-head with a grinning Dwight. "You look like you're squeezing the world's biggest hernia. Stop it," he scowled across the flashy studio, hoping it explode into a million pieces. Dwight softened his diabolical expression into a smirk.

While the four other contestants joined the Wheel party, Dwight and Michael surveyed the glitzy atmosphere of spotlights as pretty as diamonds, a floating cascade of sparkly colors blitzing from the Wheel below them, and the letterboard in the distance, ready for its star. Michael felt his skin hot, and it wasn't from the lights.

Taping for the show began and Pat Sajack graced his presence with a winning, homely smile and an acknowledgment at the contestants. Dwight swore he heard Pat say, "Heil Wheel" and even keeled behind the platform; Dwight tried getting Michael's attention but he shoo'ed Dwight away and mumbled incoherent babble. Marcus mimicked his hand grabbing the buzzer, urging the contestants to do the same. Dazzled by Vanna walking across the studio and standing near the letterboard, Michael stood motionless. Dwight shoved the buzzer in Michael's hand.

"It's Best Friends week and here we go with the Toss-Up puzzle," Pat announced; five contestants watched the letterboard like hungry hawks. Michael, the sixth contestant, stared at Vanna with hearts in his eyes. He was shaken out of his fantasy, again, by his 'assistant's' need to yell an answer like they were at a charged political rally.

"God, Dwight. That was my ear!"

Pat interjected after the audience's applause and chuckled at Dwight's boisterous display of achievement. "I like your energy. Welcome, buddy."

Behind the camera Marcus celebrated for Dwight and promptly reverted back to a more reserved manner as his colleagues stood confounded. The lanyard around his neck swung to a half-hearted stop, and he gave a thumbs-up to Dwight, who didn't see it, or chose not to.

Pat looked at his notecards. "We have two friends from Scranton, Pennsylvania with us today. They work at a regional paper company-"

"Dunder Mifflin!" Someone shouted from the audience. Michael wondered how Meredith sneaked into the audience; Dwight shouted 'yeah!' and 'Fangirls!'

"We'll have to edit that out, sorry..." Pat said with a hint of discipline. "Please don't say specific company names. The Big Wig doesn't like it." He waved it off with a chuckle, and Dwight perceived it as a silent nod to the real boss: the one sitting beneath them.

"Say hello to Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute. Tell us about yourselves."

Michael waved across the studio at his crush. "I love Vanna."

It was an old joke to Pat, but he took it in his stride. "She's our golden child. We all love her."

When Michael said nothing else, Dwight hesitated to talk out of turn but Pat and Marcus nodded at him to take over the conversation. He fist pumped the air and declared, " I love the Wheel!"

Michael grew tired of not having Vanna in his arms. "I am a successful man in the prime of my life, ready for the right woman and I do believe I will meet her soon." He felt satisfied that Vanna heard every word; however he looked straight into the camera during his confession and hadn't noticed Vanna slipping behind the board and took a break crocheting.

Pat avoided asking Michael to elaborate more. "Dwight, you mentioned paintball tournaments and volunteer work. Do you want to discuss more about volunteering?"

"Yes, Pat. I am available after 6pm Monday – Friday and on weekends except on the 1st and 2nd Saturdays of the month." He stopped suddenly. "Oh not on Sundays either... at least before noon." His comment made Angela in incognito sitting in the audience relent her dagger eyes, and she smiled.

Pat tapped his cards on the podium. "Good to know. We'll keep in touch with you and your great work. Excellent. Well, the next pair of friends here are from Miami, Florida..."

Boring, Michael thought of the other people. Were they competing for Vanna's love too? His epic cruise to Hawaii wasn't big enough for him, his mom, Vanna, Dwight, and a bunch of nobodies. Why did he have to be the same height as the others? He needed to stick out from the crowd so Vanna would fall in love. Their actual names weren't important and he defaulted to his nicknaming scheme: Inky and Winky two old ladies from the Swamp, and Paul and Jaul from Montana or one of those Forest Saint Nowheres. Dwight commented he knew a Paul from that region but didn't remember Paul having any friends.

Jaul proclaimed, "I have a wife and a kid and I am in love with my best friend." He feigned a loving look at Paul, who could have died right in his spot.


	2. Toss Up Puzzle 2 and Round 1

**Chapter 2: Toss up Round #2 and Round 1**

Michael and Dwight lost to Inky and Winky. Their coordinator consultant, Julie, celebrated with a 'puddle dance', a smaller version of the rain dance; Michael rolled his eyes at such insolence.

During Round 1, the category for the puzzle was 'what are you doing'. Inky and Winky got one letter and then bankrupted. Michael yelped "HA!" Pat and Marcus shot him a disapproving look which was considered null and void when Michael showed no remorse. Paul spun the wheel, growing more space between him and Jaul. The buzzer pealed over the audience's clapping after Paul's incorrect letter, and Michael flexed his knuckles and forearms.

"I want to spin the wheel, Dwight."

"But Michael, I told you how important this was to me."

Pat leaned over to them. "The Wheel doesn't care which one touches it, fellas."

"But I must show the future love of my life my manliness," Michael snapped, his slick hair reflecting the spotlights. Dwight conceded for the sake of his best friend but pouted while doing so. In the audience, Angela in incognito tersely tapped her foot in disapproval. Consultants and crew behind the cameras snickered at Michael stretching and bending over the Wheel, his groans echoing across the studio. Not very manly. The Wheel ticked with the force of a kitten's fart.

Despite the scattered applause from everyone else, Marcus clapped happily at Michael's attempt. Pat clicked his tongue between his teeth yet proffered, "How about another spin there, Michael? Your friend can help you."

Dwight's jovial second chance at his dream was cut short by a slap on the wrist from Michael, who didn't struggle as much and properly spun the wheel, sending Marcus into a full rain dance. Dwight held back the urge to leap across the room and sucker punch the obnoxious consultant into next week.

Michael called out, "T!" and applauded as loud as he could once Vanna displayed two T's on the board. He flapped madly at her. She returned a tiny wave at him, and his bad mood evaporated. There was a moment of silence before the next spin. Michael faced Dwight and smiled with his eyes. "The wheel isn't going to spin itself, Dwight."

Between his hands grasping the ledge and his heart thundering above the noise of the environment, Dwight ascended the stairway to one of his longtime dreams; the air felt light and warm, all spotlights focused solely on him now, applause echoed through the floor, and the sound of the wheel spinning gave him the biggest erection of his life. So big, in fact, he bent his knees and planted his folded hands trying to conceal the display. It was a glorious moment and the world wasn't ready for what he had to offer.

Marcus clearly went insane by the sheer force his legs and feet drummed across the floor. It mattered not when the Wheel landed on bankrupt and Michael looked as if a great travesty occurred. Dwight celebrated like a champion with his chest protruded and head held high. The show could end on that note, and Dwight K. Schrute's happiness would be everlasting.

The two silver haired old trouts, Inky and Winky, solved the puzzle in record time. "Baking a strawberry cake," Winky shouted from an imaginary mountaintop. Dwight clapped vigorously, still in the afterglow of touching the Wheel followed by Michael pretending to clap although his hands never touched. He mumbled, "I bet they take their teeth out and suck on it." His smile was as fake as a three dollar bill.

The crew called for a break, and everyone dispersed like scared cockroaches. Michael zero'ed in on Vanna from his spot, but Marcus pulled him and Dwight aside for refreshments and banter.

"When can I meet Vanna?" Michael snapped, glossing his tongue on a stale cookie and made a sour face at it. "Couldn't they spend more money on better cookies? Are these the Dollar store brand? Do you feed these to Vanna? You monster."

Marcus frowned. "She doesn't eat sweets. I made these cookies, man." Dwight patted him on the back as moral support.

"Well here's a little advice: don't cook for Vanna. Ever." Michael munched on a cookie, returning the one he chewed back on the platter.


	3. Prize Puzzle

**Chapter 3: Prize Puzzle**

Feeling more at ease, Michael and Dwight dominated the round, correctly answering the puzzle category 'Places' with 'Snorkeling at Coral Reef'. Paul's brain submerged under all of the wacky pressure and blurted out 'snorkeling at Coral Beef', which sent Michael, Dwight, and his own friend Jaul into hyena laughter.

Pat asked, "Coral Beef? Is that somewhere east of Coral Reef?" He cleared his throat and loosened his collar, regretting his quip. Dwight caught Pat's little apologetic nod to the Wheel. Afterwards, Pat needed to step away for a moment and it gave the contestants an opportunity to relax.

Michael squirmed in his spot. "I'm sweating bad. Do you think Vanna can smell me from here? I can't have her smelling me bad."

"No problem, Michael." Dwight whipped out a small bottle of cologne and spritzed a couple of squirts in the air. "I brought your emergency kit that has all of your favorite things in it. This cologne will mask your terrible human odor and have her like putty in your hands. Or she'll sneeze into your hands, same difference. It's possible to horde her DNA and create a clone in a few years."

Using his hands as a makeshift fan, Michael bathed in the airborne cologne, recharging his momentum. He soon grew impatient while waiting. "Where did he go? It's not polite to make us wait. He's a part of the National Hosts Association. I'll file a complaint, I swear."

"Um, the Big Wigs didn't like his joke and I'm fairly certain they are turning back the hands of time and brainwashing him," Dwight countered, "and I mean- they have a humongous wheel at their disposal for goodness sakes."

"Stop being weird, Dwight. God, just stop it!"

Normally Dwight's attitude tanked at Michael's criticisms, but he was still full in control... and ready to become one with the Wheel.

When Pat returned, he appeared disheveled with hair strands out of place and a pale face but he bounced back as he peered at the Wheel. The color and the lights rejuvenated his energy.

The two Dunder Mifflin employees flopped the prize puzzle round. Inky and Winky won, simply because, as Michael put it, "They've watched the show for a hundred years and knew every answer by now." They scored a trip to Hawaii, but, as Michael spouted again, "Where else do they have to go? They only have a few years left." Inky heard the retort and flashed a hand gesture behind the podium. The blood pooled from Dwight's face when he saw it.

"Michael, that was a Gerãs sign!"

"Like a panera?" Michael didn't tear his eyes from Vanna but wore a confused look on his face.

"Worse. They run all of the retirement communities along the East Coast. My grandfather's cousin won a chess game against a Gerãs member and the next morning he woke up with his own teeth on the bed."

"Didn't he wear dentures anyways?"

"He didn't have dentures before the game. If you don't want to suck on strawberry cake, you better make peace with them!"

Michael inhaled and panted like a bull. "No.."

"I hear some of them are lesbian lovers. Give Vanna to them," Dwight begged through his teeth. "Because I am your friend, my life is in danger too. Please, Michael... give her to them."

"No..." Michael grumbled, resisting the urge to choke Inky's leathered neck for stealing his love.

"Hey, Mr. Scott, you alright?" Pat's cool voice surfed through the tense situation. "Marcus, can you grab Mr. Scott some water?"

"I'm fine, Pat. I'm fine..." Michael cleared his throat, though his hands trembled. "Keep Vanna safe. I'm going on the record to say: I'm not afraid of no bedban baddies."

"We always do," Pat chuckled, patting his cards on the podium. "Mr. Schrute, are you cold or something? You're standing awfully close to Mr. Scott..."

During the next staff break, Michael disappeared, and Dwight and Marcus tore the place apart looking for him, flipping tables, checking Vanna's dressing room, and thumbing through the folds in the backdrop curtain. Marcus screamed, "We have to find him or the show is canceled!"

Within ten minutes, a manhunt for Michael Scott launched, including a mock sketch-up of his face drawn by Marcus on the backside of a call sheet. It resembled more of an angry cookie monster than anything human. Even the interns crawled from their desks where they hand-tailored Pat's suits and Vanna's dresses, joining the search party for Mr. Scott.

"Michael!" Dwight wailed across the studio lot, desperation fueling his body.

"Yo, man," a pimply faced twenty year old said, pointing to a nearby building. "I think he went to the toilet over there."

"Why is he using it there? We have one in the studio," Dwight cried.

Marcus swooped in. "That's only for gold members. I told him that."

"I beg your pardon," Dwight hissed. "I have laid golden turds in my time. Because I ate actual gold one time.." He shrugged at the twenty year old guy, who was impressed by someone admitting to such a bold random task.

Like grease out of a hot pan, Dwight dashed towards Michael's possible location with Marcus trailing behind him in small steps.

"Michael!" Dwight's theatrics loosened every bowel sitting in the lobby of Studio Lot 8. A sea of faces stared at him demanding to know the whereabouts of the nearest restroom. He kicked in every stall of the men's toilet with no trace of Michael in the room. Dwight sighed in front of the mirror. Once a day of joy sunk into despair.

Marcus appeared behind Dwight, solemn as well. "We have to go back now. It's over. He's gone."

"If only I had seduced Vanna when I had the chance... then she could be with Michael."

Marcus nodded in agreement.


	4. Toss Up Puzzle 3

**Chapter 4: Toss-Up Puzzle #3**

"Dwight," Michael hissed, tangling himself in the red backdrop curtain as Dwight and Marcus returned. "Where have you been? They're about to axe the whole episode." He was then swept into an embrace worth the ages by Dwight.

"I found you. I swear I didn't mean to lose you, Michael. I know one of your worst fears is getting lost in a studio lot."

Flabbergasted, Michael swatted his friend away declaring, "Don't give Vanna the wrong idea."

Marcus clapped in their faces. "Time to go, time to go. Smile, smile!"

"I'm stuck.. I'm stuck," Michael wiggled and strained for freedom. The folly worsened his trainwreck of a day, and he stomped back to the Wheel and stuck out his tongue at Inky and Winky's backs. He pretended to pick up his buzzer and made verbal noises in its place. Marcus laughed at the antics and commented Michael should have his own talk show.

"I'd like to buy an O," Winky asked during the next round.

Pat stifled a low chuckle as Michael blurted, "That's what she said!"

Dwight dared not to look in the Gerãs general direction, fearing their lives were in grave danger due to Michael's outburst. Their turn came back around and they both solved the puzzle in unison: "Leather Mullet!"

"Only one of you needs to solve and that's not the correct answer..."

"Pat, no! I said jacket. JACKET!" Michael begged but Inky and Winky won the round.

Now Dwight dared not look in Michael's direction. Michael hissed, "Who wears a leather mullet?" to a sulking Dwight.

The bell rang for the last spin, and Pat showcased a relieving smile touching the Wheel. Dwight wished he could feel the Wheel with his farmer hands again. He daydreamed right through the round and forgot to help Michael spin the Wheel.

"Don't worry about him, Pat. He's daydreaming of carrying buckets of urine to his outhouse!" Michael struggled reaching for the Wheel and spinning it, cursing under his breath. "Dumb stools. Dumb old people."

Bankrupt.

"I'll take it like a man, Vanna!" Michael held his hands in the air. Dwight snapped out of his daydream and immediately mimicked Michael. Inky and Winky hit bankrupt too, muttering a string of foreign words.

Jaul spun the wheel, but Dwight elbowed Michael quickly. "Doesn't he look different to you? The one in love with his best friend?"

"I don't care. Only Vanna matters."

"Strange. I don't recall him looking that old in the face.."

Waving behind the camera, Marcus hinted at Michael and Dwight to pay attention and clap for the other contestants, but they were far from team players by now. Michael was cranky, missed his afternoon nap, and was sick of the Wheel and everyone else being in the way of his beloved. Dwight grew nervous, but he persevered and even though they weren't going to the bonus round, he was given a second chance to spin the Wheel. Excitement burst through his body, and Inky was mighty impressed by what she saw behind the podium. He knew she was staring at his body, a treasure island, and perhaps the feud between the Gerãs and Dunder Mifflin had dissolved at last. Besides, the two ladies competed in the bonus round, won, and invited everyone to the after-party at a roadhouse twenty miles away.

In her stunning purple sequined dress, Vanna White approached Michael and Dwight after the taping completed. Dwight nudged Michael, who had turned into a human stone.

"Congratulations on your cash prize and for coming on the show today," she said, her glamorous smile causing a sonic boom in Michael's head.

"Thank you, Vanna. Here's my business card. Call, text, page, email, or send a carrier pigeon anytime for your paper needs. You are head of a few charities after all. We have great discounts.." Dwight slid a white card in her hands. Pat and Vanna wrapped up their good-byes and vanished by the invisible pull of magic Wheel gremlins.

Michael had not squeaked out one word to Vanna. Marcus offered a dolly if Dwight needed one to haul Michael off the premises.


	5. Bonus Round

_Oooh boy- the end. It took me a while to come up with a typical Office-esque ending. Hats off to the actual writers of the series who had to do this on a daily basis._

 **Chapter 5: Bonus Round**

As Michael and Dwight walked to the car, an attractive dark-haired man approached them. "No autographs please," Dwight held up his hand.

"Uh, no, I was one of the contestants in there with you..."

Michael pointed at him. "The one in love with Paul right? I named you Jaul."

"It's John..."

Dwight puffed out his chest. "It's irrelevant because the show's over. How did you age so quickly back there? Have you found the fountain of golden-ager?"

"I'm sure that doesn't exist," John Jaul frowned, pulling a clear bag of cocaine from his jacket. "Some smelly old guy came up to me in the lobby between breaks and traded places with me. Gave me this baggie of the good stuff. I wanted to leave anyways." He shrugged. "This was just a prank on my college frenemy."

"But," Michael wasn't convinced, "he didn't come out looking like the idiot. Your plan clearly didn't work, Einstein."

Jaul John shrugged again, tossing the bag in the air and caught it. "The old guy told me to say to you- 'how bad do you want to see Vanna, Boss?' I think that's what he said. He honestly smelled bad and might have been over ninety years old."

Dwight and Michael shook their heads in unison. Dwight said, "We don't know anyone over 90."

"Creed is 89, I think but not 90." Michael's brain short-circuited over one numerical difference. Dwight agreed.

"Hurry up and decide, man. My ride is waiting on me; are you guys going to the party at the Roadhouse?"

Dwight scoffed. "No thanks. I've had my fair share of Gerãs today."

"I wanna see Vanna again, John Jaul van Damme. How bad? Let's see... on a scale of one to today: yesterday! How's it gonna happen?" Michael's eyes burned with intensity under the late cloudy afternoon sky. "What did the smelly old man say?"

Dwight chimed in. "It's like an oracle, Michael. It's always a smelly old man with keys to a fortune or good luck. This is your Obi-Wan!"

"Yeah, okaaay..." John Jaul tried keeping up with the conversation. "Then your Obi-Wan said to hang out by Studio Lot 8 and she should be walking out alone."

Michael fell speechless.

"Ciao," John Jaul waved and jogged in the opposite direction. Michael needed a few moments to breathe and collect himself. This time, he would win Vanna's heart! Mrs. Vanna White Michael Scott had a VERY nice ring to it.

* * *

Behind the reception desk at Dunder Mifflin, Pam beckoned Jim over. He strolled to her area, grinning.

"So?" Pam beamed under her frizzy curls. "Did he meet Vanna?"

"It turns out, fellow Van-chael shipper- she stood him up. He and Dwight waited for hours."

"Oooh.. bad Obi-Wan," she giggled.

"I'm pretty sure Obi-Wan forgot to tell her," Jim said; he tapped the reception desk and reported back to his desk. "You can't fault the guy since he was over 90 and didn't exist. Now if you'll excuse me, Champ, I have.." he presented a suit bag spread across his desk, "...a dress I need to change into. Did you bring the buttercream?"

"Yep. I hope Kevin didn't find it in the fridge though but I think there's a tub of sour cream if you need a substitute," she snickered.

* * *

When asked by the documentary crew if he was playing hooky from work because Michael was out, Creed answered, "Yep. I also forgot to do something important but I guess it wasn't important enough if I don't remember it. But the Boss will be weirded out by a strange voicemail I got from a Ms. White asking where he was. That'll probably make his day. I hear he's pretty bummed out..."


End file.
